I can see the kind of life we’re going to have: Freya coming into the workshop with the baby on her hip. Me dropping a cinnamon roll and decent coffee at the station just to make her smile because I’m the one who makes sure she’s fed. Evenings where we finally get the baby down and hit the sofa, pretending to watch Netflix until we give up and drag each other under because it’s the only quiet we’ve had all day.
My family.
The words settle into something that feels damn near primal.
For a minute, I believe in it without resistance. But then, something old stirs underneath. A memory from a different time, a different house, a different version of myself who thought wanting and putting effort into a future meant keeping it. I remember deciding I would make things work no matter what. I remember believing that loving someone with everything I had was enough to keep them from walking away.
It wasn’t.
But it’s different this time. Freya isn’t the kind of woman who pretends everything is all right when she knows you’re walking across a minefield. Sure, she needs time to think, but she’ll speak her mind. Meeting Faith showed me it’s either nature or nurture… Both are in my favor.
Before I dwell on it anymore, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. A sharp vibration breaks across the quiet, then another. I shift slowly so I don’t wake her and reach for it, angling the screen away from her sleeping face.
Ava
Hey I’m only texting you first because I didn’t want to wake Freya. I know her family is there and she needs rest but when do you think she can come by? I’m desperate to show her what we found.
A second notification lights up immediately.
Enzo
Why didn’t you warn me I was marrying the most impatient woman in the world?
My thoughts instantly sharpen. I hope they found something that will shut this case by dusk, and I can turn my attention to what really matters.
Us.
Just then Freya stirs. She doesn’t open her eyes, but she senses I’m awake. “What time is it?”
“Five.”
She groans lightly. “I’m so tired…”
She sounds like she’s coming out of anesthesia.
My woman needs more rest. She’s growing our child, for Christ’s sake.
I kiss her forehead. “I’ll take your mom and grandma to the airport. You go back to sleep.”
She wraps her leg and arm around me and squeezes me hard. “You’re amazing.”
My heart swells to almost painful proportions, but the warmth is interrupted when a door in the hallway clicks open. Faith murmurs something inaudible, followed by the shuffle of Grandma’s slippers.
Freya’s family is awake.
Right outside.
I sit up immediately, reaching for my jeans at the foot ofthe bed. “They’re up. I should help with their bags. I don’t want them carrying anything down the stairs.”
Freya blinks herself into consciousness, pushing up onto her elbows, a frizzy curl falling into her face. “Wait, if you’re driving them, I need to say goodbye.”
Her words land between us, and then we both freeze with the sudden weight of what walking out that door means.
Her gaze flicks to the closed bedroom door. Mine follows.
Because if she walks out of this room right now…she’s walking out ofmyroom.Mybed.
It stings, but I instinctively feel Freya will want to talk to her mom about us being together on her own terms.
